


The Heart Keeps Its Own Time... But Time Waits For No One

by Lyrae_Immortalis



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Ed Has To Make A Speech, Ed is an idiot, Funeral, It Doesn't Go As Well As He Planned, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Or So Ed Believes, Oswald Is Dead, Panic Attacks, Small Mention Of Drugs, Yet Another Fic Where I Break Ed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 22:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10886679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrae_Immortalis/pseuds/Lyrae_Immortalis
Summary: Today, Oswald Cobblepot was officially laid to rest before all of Gotham. It was also the day Ed realised the horrible mistake he had made.





	The Heart Keeps Its Own Time... But Time Waits For No One

**Author's Note:**

> This all came to fruition thanks to my dear friend Farah! I hope it is to your liking <3

Ed stood with his head bowed as the last of the hymns began to die off around him, the precession was slowly coming to a close and for that Ed was thankful. A funeral wasn’t exactly something he wanted to throw for Oswald, he didn’t deserve a nice send off, nor kind words spoken about him in his final moments above the ground. The only consolation Ed could take was that Oswald never received those things in his last waking hours. He died feeling scared and alone.

 

Silence passed through the church as people shuffled back into their seats. For several months city officials coupled with members of the public banded together to search for the missing Mayor. Ed reluctantly joined them, leading the pack with a lost expression plastered on his face. They found nothing which was to be expected, as there was little evidence to uncover. Ed had even opened the doors to the manor so the forensic team could work their magic and as he closed the doors behind their befuddled faces, he smirked. Nothing was what Oswald had become.

 

Ed turned the pamphlet over in hand, peering down at the schedule he created, the songs he had chosen and the photographs he selected. The public face of grief was who he had become, it was yet another role he had to fill, thankfully a short lived one. By tonight Oswald Cobblepot would be but a forgotten memory and life would continue as it was always meant to. 

 

Behind him Ed could hear hushed whispers spreading across the pews, denouncing the  _ entire _ event. Ed scoffed, Oswald had more loyal fans then he believed, even after his questionable interview. There were people who still didn’t accept the fact that a funeral was required. What foolish hope they held on to. The mayor was dead, and they were interrupting his final send off with their speculation. Flicking his head over his shoulder, Ed fixed them with a glare which had them snapping their mouths shut. That was always an improvement. He had no time for sympathisers or followers today.

 

“Now it is time for the Eulogy. I would like to invite Mr. Edward Nygma up to speak. He has prepared a few words in regards to the dearly departed.”

 

_ Show time. _ Ed stood and ran his hands down the front of his suit, before withdrawing his speech from his pocket. Making his way up to the podium, the flashes of cameras blinded him as the press continued to cover the event.  _ Vultures _ . With a nod of thanks to the priest , and an adjustment to the microphone, Ed began.

 

"First of all I would like to thank each and everyone of you seated before me, as well as those tuning in from home, for attending this service." Ed shuffled his papers, keeping the cool and calm facade carefully maintained. “Oswald would have loved to have seen the faces of all the lives he touched and inspired. It’s with a heavy heart that we must force ourselves through this proceeding.

 

"Standing before you today to farewell our dearly departed Mayor is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Words cannot describe the sorrow and loss that I am sure we are all experiencing in this tragic time." Ed paused to let his words sink in, tinging them with just enough emotion that he appeared genuine. It was not often he had the attention of such a large crowd and with the addition of the live broadcast, he may very well have the entire city's eyes on him. Ed took a deep breath, the sooner he finished this farce the sooner he could put Oswald Cobblepot behind him.

 

"Today we say goodbye to Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot. We will all remember him as, not only the Mayor, but as Gotham's saviour; a man who single handedly rid our fine city of the monsters that infested it; a champion for those who had none and the soul that brought hope back into many of our lives." 

 

"Duty, decency, reliability, honour, and respect: these are all qualities that Oswald not only held in high esteem, but practised daily during his time on this earth." Ed's words flowed smoothly, he had practiced the speech countless times that the it had become almost nothing to him. It held no weight or meaning, he was indifferent to each and every phrase. Standing stiffly, Ed flicked his gaze over a few of the people seated before him, half the city had gathered to pay their respects to a man they didn't know, a man most of them had barely spoken a word too. It was almost sickening in a way. How could they mourn someone they didn’t know?

 

Ed's eyes fell to one of Oswald's former secretaries, watching as she cried into her handkerchief. Her eyes were red rimmed, her makeup staining the cloth pressed into her face. Ed licked his lips and narrowed his eyes. She appeared genuinely upset.  _ Why? _ Oswald was only her boss, she-

 

“Mr. Nygma?” A hand landed on Ed’s shoulder causing him to flinch away before he realised it was only the priest. “Are you alright?”

 

“I… ah, yes. Never better.” The priest’s brows narrowed slightly but he didn't say another word.  _ What was up with him? _ The woman seated in the second row gave him a sad smile and a man further back a small nod. Ed was puzzled as to why people kept looking at him like that, but there was no time to dwell the issue, he had a task to complete and he would see it through to the end.

 

"Oswald’s life could be summed up in a single phrase: don't look back. He had struggled with countless ordeals in his rather short life, but he rose above each and every one and strode forward with power and determination in each step. It was this drive that saw him overcome his tribulations and work his way to a fine position of power, for Oswald knew that as Mayor, he could best help this city to be what it was always meant to be. A prosperous place, full of grandeur. It is saddening to realise that he will not have the chance to see it come to pass.” Ed’s hands were sweating now, for reasons he couldn’t discern. He rubbed the pads of his fingers together, trying to take comfort in the small habit but they glided past each other. With a pinched brow, Ed wiped his hands on his dark suit, trying to soak up some of the moisture.  _ Keep going, Edward. You’re almost finished. _

 

"I have had the pleasure of knowing Oswald for several years. Our..." Ed's words caught in his throat as he his eyes fell to the small image upon the small booklet. He was still smiling there, unlike the he was in Ed's memories. No his mind was not at kind, it was plagued with a fearful, heartbreaking look that penetrated every dream. Ed swallowed and cleared his throat but it did little to dislodge the heavy weight that had settled inside of him. 

 

“Our  _ friendship _ was something I treasured dearly. It wasn’t as longstanding as I wish it was but it was bred in fated circumstances.” Ed bit his lip a tense shudder passed through him, small vibrations centered in his chest around his heart. 

 

“I know most of you weren't privy to what Oswald was like behind closed doors, but he was a lot softer than the media made him out to be." Ed frowned as his nails caught in the groves of the wooden podium.  _ Where did that come from? _ He wasn’t supposed to touch on their personal lives for they were filled with questionable motives and soft moments he’d rather forget.  _ Stick to the script, Edward! _

 

"Oswald was always such a gentleman – well mannered and polite, but always quick with a witty remark. His joviality and good nature attracted people the moment he walked in the room."

 

Ed swallowed thickly and bit the inside of his cheek. That… he wasn’t, he shouldn’t be speaking about Oswald so tenderly. This wasn’t what he planned, it wasn’t what he practiced. This wasn’t the image he wanted to share with the world. Ed knew should stop, that he should leave, yet he didn’t. He couldn’t. His feet were frozen, if only his voice was held under the same stasis.

 

"I- I remember the first time I saw him..." Ed released a broken laugh as pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. His memories flowed back into him in such a rush it saw matters of the heart override the mind, forcing him to break away from his carefully constructed tribute. "I looked across the room at this small but no less imposing man and found myself instantly intrigued. I knew that I had to approach him, to discover  _ for myself  _ who he was. The very second I came to stand before him was quite the revelation.” Ed smiled softly as he stroked the cursive script of Oswald’s name on the sheet. “Oswald scowled at me, he wasn’t impressed, people rarely are… but that soon changed. I proved myself worthy, and in doing so, I realised my place for the first time in my life. By his side, forever a part of his life."

 

Ed eyes flicked over at the coffin which was topped with lilies and sniffled as he struggled to hold himself together. He could feel his emotions building inside of him, emotions he thought he rid himself of when Oswald was tossed into the river. If only he was so lucky. He didn’t want to feel this pain and uncertainty. 

 

"B-but Oswald is gone now..." Ed’s hands shook at his sides, nails catching every groove on the pads of his thumbs.

 

No matter what direction he turned he saw Oswald. The oversized portrait to his left, the picture on his pamphlet, in the purple flecks the guests wore as they paid their respects dressed in a colour they should not have contact with.  _ Were they doing this to spite him, to break him? _ He couldn’t escape Oswald. Ed squeezed his eyes shut breaking away from the taunting sight but even in the darkness he found his former friend. He saw his smiles and smirks, he saw the happy glint in his eyes and the devastating look that it became in his final moments. Ed forced his fingertips beneath his glasses, bleeding those images into a rippling red. Red all to similar to the blood that stained his hands after shoving Oswald into the river.

 

“NO!” Ed shouted as he slapped his palms down onto the podium startling himself. He needed to forget him, he needed to move on. Ed wanted to run, to leave his troubles in the past but he was trapped, forced to live out Oswald's last few moments before a sea of people whose faces barely registered to him. It was the flash of startled eyes...  _ or was that the cameras, _ that finally managed to pull Ed out of his trance.

 

"I- I apologise. Where was I?" Ed shook his head and grabbed at his right wrist, tying to stop his hand from shaking but it was to little avail. He peered back down at the papers before him, blinking rapidly as he struggled to get a grip on his reality.  _ When did they get so crumpled? _

 

Ed scanned the words, trying to find his place but he found he no longer recognised them. Instead he found himself reading the words etched onto his soul rather than on the mangled sheets of paper. At least they reflected who he was. Torn, crinkled, filled with details that held no meaning to anyone but the dead. Even if he could smooth out the sheet the lines would still be there. Lines etched just under his skin, proof that no matter what mask he wore there was no hiding what was underneath.

 

Phrases bolded before his eyes. Oswald’s name, the word death, love,  _ friend... _

 

“He was my  _ only _ friend,” Ed whispered to himself but the microphone carried his voice across the room. “He was my mentor and my… and I," Ed's heart thundered in his chest. “He’s gone.” Ed gasped into the back of his hand as his eyes prickled. Oswald was gone, the coffin beside him held no corpse, and by now the river would have washed his body to an undetermined destination. There was nothing left. As he stood upon the platform before Gotham’s elite, Oswald’s body was decomposing on the riverbed.

 

Ed gazed down at the crowd before him noting the varying displays of confusion before his eyes welled, and washed it all away. I... I'm sorry, I can't do this." Ed picked up his papers and ran down the aisle, trying to ignore the confused murmurs of those seated in the pews. He was confused too, this wasn’t what he planned and that unravelled him. Oswald unravelled him, even in death he pulled at his strings and untied the complex knot that was his very being. He cut straight through him leaving behind unattached fibers longing to be whole again, reaching out with no one, nothing to grasp them.

 

The burst of fresh air was the first sensation Ed felt upon making it outside, it was almost a relief if not for the microphones, recorders and cameras shoved in his face within seconds. Ed blinked and rubbed at his eyes. He wasn’t cut out for this, for people. He tried, he continued to try but it was to little avail. People shunned him, they saw through his facade and now the entire city saw his composure shatter.

 

“Move, let me leave,” Ed pleaded weakly, as he stepped forward trying to find a gap in which he could escape but they shuffled in closer. Ed couldn't breath, he couldn't see. Questions were fired rapidly, racing his heart. Could they  _ see  _ him, did they know what he did? 

 

“Do you believe Cobblepot could still be alive?”  _ No. _

 

“Do you hold any hope?”  _ I- no. _   
  
“Will you keep searching for him despite the call from city hall?”  _ Yes. _

 

“Mr. Nygma, your relationship with the former Mayor-” Ed glared at the reporter before screwing his eyes shut, trying in vain to tune them out.  _ Relationship. _ He didn’t have a relationship with him, not a real one. Ed shook his head and balled his jittery hands at his sides. The only way out of this swarm was to delve through the crowd, but that felt like diving into the black waters that swallowed Oswald whole.

 

_ It was the only way. _

 

Hands grabbed at him as he stepped forward. They tore at his arms, his wrists, his neck. Not their hands,  _ his _ hands. They dragged him down and buried his shell... empty just like Oswald’s coffin. Hollow, void, meaningless. There was nothing there inside him now, for him to turn to. 

 

“MOVE!” Ed shouted as he cut through the last few thongs forcing the reporters to scurry back like the rodents they were. Even as he stepped away from their oppressiveness he could still feel them clutching at him. Hung, drawn and quartered. Eviscerated. Ed threw himself into his car and locked the doors, obstructing a physical barrier when his emotional one lie in pieces. Ed pounded his hands down on the steering wheel and brushed away the tears he hadn't been aware he was shedding. He couldn’t focus, that always came from Oswald but now his model was destroyed, the mirror shattered. Who does he reflect now? What does he? What is he? 

 

Evil. A monster. Damaged.  _ Sick. _ Only someone truly deranged as he would destroy their best friend in that manner.

 

Ed’s mind whirled as he drove home, no not home, that was not his place anymore but he needed to be there, he needed to be in  _ his _ presence. The world blurred as Ed wove his way through the streets, was it because of his tears or his memories? Ed couldn’t tell. 

 

Pulling up at the manor, Ed tore himself out of the car. He barely even remembered to close the car door before he was rushing inside the mansion, tripping up the staircase as he headed towards Oswald’s bedroom. It was the room that last held his breath, his dreams, his peaceful slumber. The last place Oswald was  _ truly  _ alive. A tight fist squeezed around his heart as he threw open the door causing him to pause. Everything looked too perfect, too clean like an exhibit in a museum. Devoid of the casualties of time and space. It was further proof that Oswald was gone, nowhere to be found. 

 

Ed shifted his gaze, catching it in the mirror across the room. He couldn't stand the sight of himself, for that wasn't him any longer, that was the man who destroyed the  _ one _ person he cared for. Dark brown orbs, red rimmed peered into his own. He knew those eyes, he could never forget them.

 

"STOP LOOKING AT ME!" Ed roared as he tossed a something at the mirror, shattering it into a rain of mismatched pieces. It was just another reflection destroyed, at least  _ those _ eyes were off him now. 

 

Ed swiped his cheeks as he hesitantly strode over the the sprinkled shards wondering if he should clean it up but his thoughts quickly left him as soon as he caught his face in the scattered remnants. Ed winced, he was wrong. He still had a reflection, but it was broken, layered, and riddled with holes. Empty black spaces with nothing to fill them. His eyes shifted to the projectile taking in the image he used to destroy himself but it was too much. An unbidden gasp tore free from his throat, before he reached to pick up the photograph. Why would Oswald have this? Why was it in here? Did he truly love him? Ed stared at his smiling face and found he barely recognised the man. He looked happy.

 

Why did things have to change. Why?

 

Ed’s eyes watered as they flicked to Oswald’s bed, memories of their time shared back in his apartment struck him deep. Oswald was broken then, and he turned to Ed for help. Little good that did him in the end. Oswald should have stayed away, he would have been safe, he would still be here. Ripping his glasses off of his face, Ed threw himself down on the sheets of Oswald’s bed, and screamed into the pillows. His fists pounded into the plush surface and his legs kicked as tears burned down his cheeks.

 

“I hate you. I hate you.” Ed’s voice was muffled by the cushion but that didn’t stop him from shouting his pain. “Why did you have to do this to me? Why did you force my hand, Oswald? Why are you gone?”

 

Flopping onto his back, Ed’s heart pounded so fast in his chest it felt like it was bruising him from the inside out, causing his breath to shudder . The never ending stream poured out the corners of his eyes yet he no longer made a move to catch them. They would fall whether he liked them to or not, reacting to the pull of gravity… gravity which dragged Oswald into murky depths.  Ed's hands came to pull at the strands of his hair drawing a wince from between his lips.

 

“I’ve got n-nothing left going for me, not since I lost you,” he said listlessly. It was the truth. He had no direction, nothing to strive for, no one to impress. He was well and truly alone, crying on top of a dead man’s bed.

 

Rolling onto his side, Ed hugged one of the cushions to his chest and buried his face into it. The pillow still held physical remnants of Oswald’s life. His scent, strands of his black hair. Here Ed could convince himself that Oswald was still alive, that he would return. If he tried hard enough he could live out this fantasy but fantasies weren't real, there was no changing his action, no rewinding the clock, it kept ticking by. That slow endless passage of of time, each strike a laceration upon his skin, across his heart.

 

Ed withdrew his phone out of his pocket and with blurred vision, flicked off a text to a man he had been rather reluctant to contact until now.

 

_ I want the pills. Tomorrow. Noon. You know where. _

 

Ed tossed his phone over his shoulder and dropped his head back down as he awaited his nightmares to take hold. There would be no avoiding them today and he didn’t deserve the peacefulness serenity of sleep. Ed’s phone buzzed on the floorboards but he made no move to pick it up, to break away from his hold on Oswald. He would have to take steps to away from him tomorrow if he had any hope of moving on with his life.

 

Today, Oswald Cobblepot was officially laid to rest before all of Gotham. It was also the day Ed realised the horrible mistake he had made.

 

“I hate you,” Ed whispered against the pillow as he breathed in Oswald’s scent. “I hate that I miss you.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Love to all those that read, review and leave a kudos. I hope you liked the fic <3
> 
> My tumblr: [riddlerbird.tumblr.com](url)


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